


My Compass

by adiwriting



Series: My Home [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, childhood best friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 13:19:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11082414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adiwriting/pseuds/adiwriting
Summary: Oliver and Felicity have been best friends since 1st grade. So when it comes time for Felicity to move to Las Vegas, neither of them know how to handle it.





	My Compass

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place December 14, 1998. A complete timeline of this series can be found here  
> ([Home Verse Timeline](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13304013))

**Starling City 1998**

Felicity’s heart feels like it’s going to burst out of her chest and her stomach clenches as she works to hold back hysterical sobs. Her hand trembles as she knocks on the door of Oliver’s ridiculous house.

The bitter part of her wants to rip the huge, overly expensive door knocker off of the door, tear up the insane amount of poinsettias on the walkway, and tear down all of the Christmas lights from the building.

Why is it some families are blessed with so much while others have so little?

Why is it Oliver can grow up in a literal castle while she has to move 1,200 miles away just so that her mother can get food on the table.

It’s the first night of Hanukkah. She’s supposed to be praying around the menorah and eating latkes. She’s supposed to be arguing with her mother about the fact that she feels she’s outgrown the dreidel. She’s not supposed to be on her best friend’s doorstep trying not to have a breakdown.

It’s not fair. She doesn’t want to move.

She can’t.

She won’t.

The door opens and Felicity tries to smile at Raisa, but all she manages is a pathetic cry as she struggles to say, “Oliver?”

“Mr. Oliver isn’t here,” Raisa tells Felicity, shaking her head. “He’s out with Mr. Thomas.”

Felicity nods her head, and tries not to fall apart.

Of course he’s not home.

Isn’t that how her life goes? There’s a plane ticket with her name on it leaving Starling in 10 hours and Oliver isn’t here.

Three hours ago, Felicity and her mom were forcibly evicted from their home. The neighbors watched as their landlord threw their things out the door and told them to get out. Felicity had wanted to call the police, but they had no leg to stand on. They hadn’t signed a lease when they’d moved in. Legally, they are entitled to nothing.

Felicity hadn’t even known they were 6 months behind on rent. If she had, she would have picked up a job. She’s sure there’s at least one diner in the Glades that wouldn’t care about child labor laws.

The situation was bad. Felicity isn’t naive. She’d known they were completely screwed. They had been sitting in a Denny’s with a suitcase full of everything they could carry. She hadn’t thought their options were great. But she hadn’t thought her mother would ever call her grandmother for help. Felicity hasn’t seen her grandmother since her dad left and her mother cut off all ties with his family and moved to Starling.

And yet, here they are. Getting ready to move over a thousand miles away to live with Grandma Kuttler.

Felicity takes several steps back as she continues to nod at Raisa like her entire world isn’t falling apart, but she’s not paying attention where she’s walking and ends up falling backwards off the steps and landing hard on her elbow.

She can hear Raisa’s surprised gasp as she rushes down the stairs after her and starts speaking frantically in Russian. The only thing Felicity can understand is her name.

She can’t help it. She bursts into tears and covers her face with her hands.

How has this become her life?

“Oh, no. Ms. Felicity,” Raisa says, trying to pull her hands away from her face. “You are hurt? You need the hospital?”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m fine.”

She is anything but fine, but she isn’t about to cry about her problems to Oliver’s housekeeper.

“What is going on out here?”

Felicity doesn’t need to look to know who that voice belongs to, and it makes her feel about a thousand times worse.

Moira Queen.

While she’s never outright said it, Felicity knows that Mrs. Queen doesn’t approve of Oliver’s friendship with her. She views Felicity as a charity project. The girl who only goes to school with Oliver because of a scholarship program for inner city kids. Felicity is at Starling Prep to ease the conscience of the city’s wealthy, so they can continue to live opulent lives without needing to feel bad about the ever rising poverty rates in the Glades.

In fact, the only time Mrs. Queen acknowledges Felicity is when she uses Felicity’s name to make herself look better. Felicity’s been to enough school fundraisers to have heard the whispers.

“Look at Moira Queen, taking in a stray and helping her find her way.”

“Isn’t it wonderful that the Queens took Felicity Smoak in and mentored her. Without them, she’d probably have dropped out of school and be working the streets.”

“Poor Felicity Smoak. Do you know the school has to cover her lunch, too. It’s probably the only meal she gets a day.”

Felicity hates the way that the high society women look down at her. As if being top of her class only happened because of her friendship with Oliver. As if the fact that she’s smarter than every other kid in their school is due to her “luck” at knowing the Queens.

Nobody ever bothers to mention the fact that Oliver only passed 7th grade last year because his parents donated half a million dollars to renovate the gymnasium. Or the fact that the only reason he’s passing 8th grade now is because he’s finally let her start tutoring him.  

Even worse than the things they say about her is the way they talk about her mother. As if she’s some cracked out, unemployed, mental case that can’t be bothered to get off the couch and take care of her child.

It’s disgusting.

So no. Mrs. Queen is not who Felicity wants to see right now.

She’d come here for Oliver.

The person she needs right now is Oliver.

“Felicity, what are you doing out here in the cold? Oliver isn’t here. And do you really think it’s appropriate to be coming over to a boy’s house like this on a school night? You aren’t a child anymore, you’re a young woman. You don’t want to send the wrong message,” she says, looking down at her like dirt on her favorite rug.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Queen,” Felicity manages to say.

She goes to stand up, but the second she puts weight on her right ankle it buckles and she cries out in pain.

“Ms. Felicity,” Raisa says, clearly worried as she reaches out her arm to help Felicity stand up without putting weight on her ankle.

“You’re hurt,” Mrs. Queen says. It’s not a question, it’s a statement. And an annoyed one at that. “Come inside then.”

“Oh no. I’m just going to go home,” Felicity says, pointing to the gate, trying to figure out how on Earth she’s going to make the walk down their stupidly long driveway with a busted ankle.

“Well I don’t really need your mother suing me because you got injured on my property,” Mrs. Queen says.

Felicity can’t hear what she mumbles next, but she’s sure it has something to do with the fact that she thinks her mom is a gold digger. Like her mother has ever asked for a dime from the Queens. Or anybody for that matter.

Mrs. Queen walks back inside, but Felicity doesn’t follow after her.

She may not be happy about moving, but there is one silver lining. Never having to deal with this shit again.

“Raisa,” Mrs. Queen says sharply without turning around and Raisa begins walking Felicity inside, despite her protests.

Felicity can’t help but feel mortified by this entire thing. She’d been so stupid to come here. She should have known that Oliver would be out with Tommy. It is Monday, after all. Oliver will be at Tommy’s house watching Monday Night Football with a bunch of boys from school.

Raisa helps Felicity navigate the twists and turns of the mansion until they reach the kitchen.

“Licity!” Thea yells excitedly, jumping out of her chair at the table and running over to hug Felicity around the legs. “Did you come to play with me?”

Felicity is about to respond when Mrs. Queen answers for her, “No. She’s just getting some ice then going back home.”

Felicity blushes at the pointed look that Mrs. Queen sends her. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Come along, Thea. It’s time for your bath.”

“Bye, Licity!” Thea says, giving her a big smile, completely oblivious to the obvious tension in the room.

At the risk of earning Mrs. Queen’s wrath, Felicity pulls the little girl in for a hug, knowing it’s the last time that she’ll probably ever see her. She holds her extra tight and places a kiss to the top of her head before pulling away.

“Bye, Thea,” she says with a watery smile. “Take care of yourself.”

Once Mrs. Queen and Thea are gone, Raisa helps her into a chair and hands her an ice pack.

“I’ll call Mr. Oliver,” she whispers into Felicity’s ear, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Felicity looks up at the kind, older woman who’s known her since she was six years old. The woman who’s always made sure that Felicity felt welcome here, despite Mrs. Queen’s objections. The one who always had her favorite cookies made for play dates and kissed her cuts and scrapes.

She’s glad that Oliver has Raisa. She knows that things aren’t easy for Oliver. His father is distant and his mother’s expectations are heavy. While he’s never had to worry about money a day in his life, he has his own set of problems to deal with. Problems he’s only ever confided in her.

It’s not fair.

Oliver and her need each other.

Raisa goes to make the phone call and Felicity doesn’t stop her. As much as she wants to leave this house and Mrs. Queen’s judgement, she won’t leave without saying goodbye to Oliver.

Felicity listens in as Raisa explains to Oliver that he needs to come home. She’s sure that Oliver asks a lot of questions, but Raisa still doesn’t know why she’s here and Felicity doesn’t tell her.

Oliver really should hear that she’s moving away in person.

“Mr. Oliver will be home soon,” Raisa tells her after she hangs up. “Why don’t you wait in his room?”

Felicity nods, happy for an excuse to escape.

****

Felicity is laying on his bed tracing over the picture he has framed on his nightstand. It’s of the two of them. It’s one her mom had taken this past summer at the 4th of July Festival that the Glades has every year. Felicity’s wearing a big smile as she stares at the sparklers they are holding, but Oliver’s smile is directed at her.

It’s a really good picture. She’s glad that her mom had gotten the shot. Oliver’s eyes always look even more blue when he smiles like that and for once her hair hadn’t been a total frizzy mess so she’d been able to wear it down. They look good together.

Felicity knows he keeps it there because it annoys his mother every time she sees it. She hates that Oliver comes to the Glades to hang out with her. She is constantly telling him how dangerous it is, but he ignores her. He didn’t pick that picture because it’s one of the few where she actually looks somewhat presentable and not like a hopeless nerd. He’d picked it to get back at his mom.

She knows this but she likes to pretend he keeps it on his nightstand for the same reason she has a picture of the two of them on hers. It’s wishful thinking. Oliver loves her as a friend, nothing more. How could he? He’s completely out of her league. It’s a miracle they are even friends. Oliver and she run in different circles. He’s a popular jock that everyone in school loves and Felicity? Felicity can’t even get her lab partner to remember her name despite the fact that they’ve gone to school together for 8 years.

Felicity’s the nerdy girl who spends her lunch periods in the computer lab and Oliver’s the boy that can barely be bothered to show up for class most days. They aren’t compatible in that way.

Not that it really matters anymore.

Not with her moving away.

“Hey,” Oliver says, stepping into the room with a concerned look. “What’s going on? Raisa said you were upset?”

He throws his backpack and blazer carelessly on the ground and crawls onto the bed next to her, pulling her into his arms. The second her head is against his chest and his arms are safely around her body, she loses it. She begins crying.

“Hey… hey. Talk to me,” he says, trying to shush her, but she just continues to cry.

It’s not fair. She doesn’t want to move. She shouldn’t have to. Her mother already works two jobs and she still can’t pay rent. It’s not right. This isn’t how the world is supposed to work. At school they are constantly teaching them about how hard work pays off. But it’s a joke. Her mother works hard for everything and it’s never once paid off. On the contrary, women like Moira Queen have had the entire world handed to them on silver platters without ever having lift a finger.

“Felicity, please talk to me,” Oliver says, pulling away from her and putting his hands on her cheeks to force her to look at him.

She opens her mouth to tell him several times, but nothing comes out. Saying it would make it real and she’s not sure she’s ready for that.

“Did somebody do something to you?” he asks, his voice going low and growly like it does whenever he’s about to get into a fight. “Was it Max Fuller? I swear to god I’ll—”

“I’m moving.”

The words tumble out of her and the second she says them, she immediately wants to take them back because Oliver looks like he’s just been slapped.

“What?”

“I’m moving,” she says, reaching her hand up to rest it against Oliver’s chest. She can feel his breathing begin to increase in panic as he looks like he’s trying to remain calm.

“To a different apartment in Starling,” he says, but she can tell he knows that’s not the case. She wouldn’t be here crying if it were.

“To Vegas,” she whispers.

Oliver sucks in a breath and shakes his head repeatedly.

“No,” he says. “You can’t.”

“I don’t have a choice,” she says, her heart breaking into a million pieces.

“Well that’s stupid,” he says. “You can’t move. Tell your mom no.”

Felicity shakes her head. She wishes that she could protest this. She had wanted to throw a fit when her mom made the final call, but she hadn’t. As awful as moving to Las Vegas is going to be for Felicity, she knows that it’s a million times worse for her mother. There’s a reason that they moved to Starling City after her father abandoned them. She can’t imagine how humiliating it had to be for her mom to call her ex-mother-in-law to ask for help. She knows it’s going to be awful for her mom to live with Grandma Kuttler.

“I don’t understand,” Oliver whispers. “I was just at your house last night. Everything was fine?”

“We got evicted,” she says, staring at the school logo embroidered on Oliver’s white polo. She can’t meet his eyes. Looking at him and how hurt he looks is making this so much harder on her.

“What?” he asks. “When?”

“This afternoon,” she says. “I came home from school and our landlord was yelling at my mom and throwing all of our stuff on the street.”

“He can’t do that.” Oliver lets go of her face and his fists clench like he’s about to hit somebody.  

“He can when we haven’t paid rent in six months,” she says, dejected.

For as long as Oliver and her have been best friends, there’s still so much about her life that he doesn’t understand. How could he?

“What an asshole. He should give you a break,” he says. “Can’t he see your mom is doing the best she can?”

“I’ll be sure to pass your message along to John Nickel,” she says with a snort. “Compassion is his middle name.”

Oliver rolls out of bed and begins pacing the floor.

“What if I paid your rent?” he asks.

She shakes her head. She’s never accepted money from the Queens and she’d vowed she never would. Contrary to what everyone says about her, she’s not friends with Oliver because of his money. She’s friends with him despite it.

And even if she were desperate enough to swallow her pride and accept his help — and she may very well be — her mom would never go for it.

Her mom had raised her to never accept charity from anyone. She’d raised her to be proud of who she is and where she comes from. In fact, the only thing Donna Smoak has ever accepted is Felicity’s scholarship and that was because Felicity earned it fair and square. In Kindergarten, they’d assessed all of the kids from the Glades who applied for the program and Felicity had scored in the top 10%. Her and three other kids had won a coveted spot at the school. The way Donn saw it, Felicity hadn’t been handed anything.

“Felicity,” he says, sighing her name in the way that he does when he feels like she’s missing the point. “Look at this place. I can cover your rent. I won’t even have to ask my mom for money. How much do you guys owe?”

“That’s not how it works,” she says, sitting up in bed. “We’ve already been evicted. We aren’t going back.”

“Well then I’ll pay for a new apartment,” he says. “A better apartment. One without an asshole for a landlord.”

“My mom wouldn’t let you,” she says, hanging her head in frustration.

“Don’t tell her where it came from,” he says, throwing his hands out like it’s as simple as that.

She can’t help the laugh that comes out at that. “And where am I supposed to tell her it came from? I know in your world you can drop a couple grand in one night. You probably have five grand in cash in your wallet right now. But where I’m from, that kind of money only comes from selling drugs or sex. And I don’t need my mom thinking I’m a prostitute.”

Oliver gives her a weird look at that and she knows him well enough by now to anticipate a dirty joke coming her way, but thankfully, he decides against it. His hands move to his hips as he stares at her, deep in thought.

“You’ll move in here,” he says. It’s not a question, but a statement.

She’s known him since 1st grade and if there’s quality about him that she hates, it’s his total inability to understand that he can’t always get his way.

“Oliver—”

“There’s plenty of room,” he says. “You could move into the guest house.”

Felicity can already imagine how well that won’t go over.

“Your mom hates me,” she says, crossing her arms.

“She doesn’t,” he argues.

“She really does.”

Oliver groans in annoyance. “Well who the hell cares what she thinks. It’s not her house. It’s my dad’s and he loves you. He’s always asking me why I can’t be more like you. Hell, I’m sure he’d trade us if he could.”

She should remind him that his dad loves him, but she knows he won’t listen to her. He never does when it comes to his parents and they have more important things at hand.

“Your dad might love me, but he doesn’t love my mom.”

“Well she can go to Vegas and you can stay here,” he says.

She can tell that he doesn’t honestly expect her to leave her mother. He’s just grasping at straws here because he’s so upset by the news. She gets it. She’s upset, too. But none of this is making it any easier on her.

“Oliver, please,” she says.

He completely deflats. His entire body slumps. He drags his feet all the way back over to the bed, where he lays down and pulls her into him so she can rest her head on his shoulder.

“When are you moving?” he asks, sounding like he’s about to cry.

“My flight leaves in 8 hours,” she whispers.

The panic she’d been feeling when she first showed up on his doorstep returns. Her heart rate speeds up and she feels like she’s about to vomit.

“What?” he asks, sounding like his entire world has just ended.

“I know,” she whispers, closing her eyes tight as a few tears fall down her face. She doesn’t want to cry anymore than she already has. This is hard enough on them as it is. If Oliver sees her crying, he’ll get overprotective and try to fix it again, and this isn’t something he can fix.

“It’s not enough time,” he says, desperate. He pulls her closer to him and places a kiss to the top of her head.

“I know,” she says.

“God, I was watching the stupid game today. I was with the boys after school,” he says. “I could have been with you. All that time—”

“We didn’t know,” she says, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him as close to her as she can. “And you’re here now.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do without you,” he says, causing her heart to clench painfully.

“You have Tommy,” she says, not mentioning how she won’t have anyone.

She’s never had an easy time making friends. The kids at school are all either threatened by her intelligence or have bought into whatever crap their parents have fed them about talking to kids from the Glades.

She’s sure she won’t have an easier time in Vegas. She’s socially awkward and she talks too much, not to mention she’s a girl interested in STEM.

The only reason she has any kind of friends here at all is because of Oliver. He’d befriended her on her first day of school when some girl was picking on her for her Wonder Woman backpack. She teases him about it now. Calls it his savior complex. He lives to play hero to damsels in distress. From them on, she became his pet project and eventually, after a few weeks at school, they became genuine friends. Several of Oliver’s friends became her own by default.

She always wonders if it hadn’t been for Becky Morales picking on her that first day, if Oliver would have ever looked twice at her.

She doubts it.

As much as Oliver cares about her now and says she’s the only person who truly likes him for him and doesn’t judge him, she doesn’t think he would have ever gotten to know her well enough without that initial push.

They lay there in silence, just holding each other, lost in thought. She’s going to miss this most of all. Just being with Oliver. She doesn’t think she’ll ever find another friend like him.

“Can I still call you?” he asks.

“You’d better,” she says. “But only on weekends, long distance is expensive.”

“I’ll pay for it,” he says, squeezing her tight. “To talk to you, I’ll pay anything.”

He says that now. She wonders how long it will be true. With her so far away and him having so many friends here, she’s sure that it won’t take him long before he becomes too busy for her.

How long will it take him to forget all about her?

They stay like that for another half an hour, whispering promises to each other before she glances at the clock and groans.

“I need to leave,” she says, moving to get out of bed, but Oliver’s arms tighten around her and he refuses to let go.

“No,” he whines. “Not yet.”

“We’re staying at a shelter tonight and they have a strict curfew. I have to get back,” she says.

He sits up in bed and stares down at her like she’s just told him she set the house on fire.

“You’re what?” he says. “No. Absolutely not. You can’t.”

“It’s a shelter, not a crack house,” she says, rolling her eyes as she gets out of bed and looks for her shoes.

Oliver scrambles to his feet and grabs one of her shoes before she can, holding it over his head out of reach.

“You’re telling me nobody at that shelter is a crack addict?”

She jumps to try and get her shoe back from him, but his recent growth spurt has made him a freaking giant compared to her.

“You aren’t going,” he says. “Not when we have perfectly good rooms here that never get used. Call your mom and tell her she’s staying here, too.”

“Really?” she says, pulling on his arm to try and get him to release her shoe. “Your mom is going to go for that?”

“My mom isn’t going to kick you both out,” he says. “Not if it means you sleeping in a shelter. No matter what you may think of her, she isn’t that heartless.”

“We have to get to the airport in the morning and there are no busses that run close to here,” she explains.

She doesn’t know why she’s protesting this. She wants to sleep in a homeless shelter about as badly as she wants a hole in the head, but she’s just so used to protesting whenever Oliver gets like this that it’s habit by now.

“I can have a car take you to the airport,” he says. “Just please, sleep here tonight. I’m going to have a hard enough time sleeping as it is without worrying if you’re catching hepatitis in a shelter.”

“Do you want me to tell you all the ways that statement was offensive and wrong?” she asks.

“Are you going to stay?” he asks.

“I’ll need a phone to call my mom.”

****

Felicity tip toes across the hallways towards Oliver’s room later that night after her mom has fallen asleep and the house is quiet. She should be sleeping. They have to be up in a few hours to leave for the airport. But she can’t. She’s never been able to sleep anywhere in the Queen mansion but Oliver’s bed.

When she was little, she thought the place was haunted because she’d watched a little too much Are You Afraid of the Dark? as a kid, but now she realizes it’s just that his house feels so cold and empty everywhere else. His house is like a museum.

She’s not surprised to see light from under Oliver’s door. He’s always been a night owl, complaining of insomnia. She knocks on his door before opening it, smiling at him when she sees him reading a book in bed. It’s one of his best kept secrets that he actually enjoys reading. Not that anyone would know it looking at his English grades.

Oliver gasps playfully. “What will my mother think.”

“She’ll probably call me a scarlet woman,” Felicity says, walking over to his bed and shoving at him until he makes more room on her side of the bed. “And then lecture me about propriety.”

“And yet, here you are,” he teases.

She laughs and cuddles up next to him, digging her toes into his legs for warmth and causing him to grunt in annoyance.

“I’ll tell you this, I won’t miss your cold toes,” he says. “I’ve lost count of how many pairs of socks I’ve bought you, and still, you insist on walking around barefoot.”

“I wear socks at home,” she says with a smirk.

“You’re a brat.”

She smiles at that, knowing he doesn’t mean it and lays her head down on his chest while he continues to read.

“Who’s going to protect you from the ghosts when you leave?” he asks.

“I’m not scared of ghosts anymore,” she says.

“Sure,” he says, disbelievingly. “Which is why you still sneak into my room at night to share a bed.”

She shrugs. “We’ve been doing it since we were kids. Seems weird to stop now,” she says. “Unless… Did you want me to stop?”

Oliver closes his book and puts it in the night stand before pulling the covers up over them and settling in for bed.

“I’ve got a beautiful girl in my bed. Why would I want you to stop?” he asks.

“Ha ha,” she says, not amused. She knows that he doesn’t find her attractive, but he doesn’t have to tease her about it.

Oliver gives her a strange look that she doesn’t understand. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but after several long seconds, closes it and decides otherwise.

“You haven’t told me… What’s in Vegas anyway?” he asks.

Felicity sighs. For five glorious minutes there she’d completely forgotten what she was doing over at Oliver’s house on a Monday night. Now, it all comes crashing back to her and filling her with a sense of impending dread.

“My grandmother.”

Oliver looks at her in confusion. “Your grandmother? But I thought she died two years ago?”

Felicity nods. “That was my bubbe. This is my dad’s mom.”

Oliver looks at her without saying a word, she can see the realization come over his face. She doesn’t talk about her father much, but when she does, it’s never good. Oliver knows how badly her father leaving had hurt her. He knows that is the reason they moved to Starling.

“Felicity…”

Oliver looks like he’s going to try and comfort her, which will only make her upset. So she stops him.

“Can we talk about something else right now?” she asks.

“I… Yeah. Okay. What do you want to talk about?”

She rakes her brain for an acceptable topic to discuss that isn’t going to make her sad. Talking about his winter break plans is only going to make her depressed because this year was the first year Oliver wasn’t traveling for most of break. He’s convinced his parents to stay home this year and he was going to spend his break with her to make up for how busy he’d been this past semester with the soccer team.

Talking about his friends would just remind her that Oliver had plenty of other people to hang around with and would likely forget all about her quickly.

Talking about either of their families was off limits because those were emotional enough topics as it was.

So she settled for safe.

“I could help you review for your science final,” she offers.

Oliver groans. “No thanks.”

“You have to pass this year if you want to get into high school,” she says.

“What’s the point?” he asks. “I was only studying because I wanted to be in class with you next year and now that you’re leaving…”

“You still need to get into high school,” she argues.

“My parents bought a new gymnasium so that I wouldn’t repeat 7th grade,” he says. “I’m getting into high school no matter what. Anything else would tarnish the Queen family name.”

He doesn’t say it to be a brat, she knows. He says it out of bitterness for how much his family cares more about his reputation than they do his actual well being. He just doesn’t realize what an asshole he sounds like when he says things like that.

“Okay…” she says, annoyed once again at how much money the Queens have. “Maybe we should just go to sleep.”

Oliver nods his head, reaching over her to turn off the bedside lamp.

As they are laying in the dark, she feels his hand reach out for her own.

“Felicity,” he whispers so quietly she barely hears him.

“Yeah?”

“I want to tell you something, but I’m scared,” he says.

She keeps hold of his hand but turns onto her side so that she can try and make out his face. It’s hard with the dark and without her glasses.

“You don’t have to be scared to tell me anything,” she says, reaching out her other hand to run her fingers through his hair.

He really does need a haircut soon. It’s getting long enough to fall into his eyes and that’s a little too boy band for her liking.

He is quiet for several long breaths, but she doesn’t say anything. She gives him the space he needs to think through what he wants to say, knowing it’s important and possible the last chance he’s going to get to say anything to her face. After this, they’ll have phone calls, if even that.

She swallows a lump in her throat at the thought of never seeing him again.

It’s not fair.

It’s just not.

“I’m worried about what happens to me after you leave,” he says. “And I know that’s entirely selfish and I shouldn’t be thinking it. I should be worried about you and how you’re going to get through this. You’re the one that’s leaving home… But then… You’ve always been my home, so it kind of feels like I’m losing my home, too.”

“Oh, Oliver…”

She can feel herself starting to panic again, but she tries her best to hold it together for Oliver’s sake.

“I love you,” he says.

Felicity’s entire body freezes at his words.

Of all the things that Oliver could have said, that was the last thing she expected. She’s been in love with Oliver for years, but she’d never once imagined that he might feel the same.

She’s about to say something, when he continues on and his next words shatter her heart.

“You’re my best friend and I love you,” he says.

Of course. He loves her as a friend. She’s getting ready to move away and he wants her to know what a good friend she is.

She’d been silly to think he could mean anything else.

“You’re my compass… or something. You’re the one that keeps me on the right track and helps me calm down when I’m upset. You keep me from doing anything too self-destructive and I don’t know what kind of man I’ll be without you here to keep me in line.”

“You don’t need me for that,” she tells him, putting her hand over his heart. “You’re a good guy, Oliver. When you were 6 years old, you rescued a nerdy girl in glasses from getting picked on for no reason other than you didn’t like seeing people upset. Hold onto that guy and you’ll be fine.”

“Yeah.”

He lays his head back down on the pillow and she does the same. They lay there in silence as she tries to find the courage to tell him what she needs to say. If this is the last time they are going to see each other, then he should know how she feels.

“Oliver?” she asks.

“Hmm?”

“I love you, too.”

It’s not eloquent. It’s not the confession of love that she always dreamed about. It’s not even clear to anyone other than herself that she means as anything other than a friend, but it’s what she says and she can’t bring herself to say anything more.

“Thank you for being my friend,” Oliver says before falling asleep.


End file.
